


Point and Shoot

by orangeblacktea



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-24
Updated: 2014-09-24
Packaged: 2018-02-18 14:47:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2352185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orangeblacktea/pseuds/orangeblacktea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Getting her cheek slammed by the butt of a laser gun was definitely worth the kiss she got for it afterward, Quinn decided.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Point and Shoot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [poohlikeaboss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/poohlikeaboss/gifts).



> A late birthday present for the wonderful Pooh!

Laser Wars was a game invented by Lucifer himself, Quinn decided.

She adjusted the weighted vest digging into her shoulder blades and winced at the flakes of worn plastic that fluttered to her feet from the movement. And were all these straps really necessary? She fiddled with the material until it pulled snugly against her waist and adjusted her gun holder for easy access.

A huff of annoyance pulled her attention to the other side of the room. Quinn tried to hide her smile as she watched Rachel struggle to put on her gear.

"If children can put it on…it shouldn't be this difficult," Rachel mumbled under her breath as she strode to Quinn's side.

"This was your stupid idea," Quinn reminded her, though her tone was light and her eyes twinkled in amusement at Rachel's frustration. "We could always ditch Santana and Brittany..." Her eyes wandered over to the adjacent corner of the room. Santana was adjusting the fit of her leather sports gloves with a strange look of concentration as Brittany practiced various shooting poses—along with sound effects—while waving around her deactivated gun. Both were dressed head to toe in various forms of black clothing.

They looked ridiculous.

"Dinner and a movie are still on the table, you know." Quinn offered, hopeful.

"I refuse," Rachel hissed. "I refuse to back down from this challenge."

Quinn lifted an eyebrow. "Challenge?"

"You know what Santana said," Rachel stated simply. "We are _not_ predictable."

"The first date is _supposed_ to be predictable." Quinn groaned. Hindsight told her that she should have asked Rachel on a date when Santana was nowhere near their vicinity. "Something I'd prefer we were doing _alone, frankly._ "

"And I can't believe she said that I wasn't versatile," Rachel continued, dismissing her comment. "That is ridiculous. My art _demands_ fluidity."

"You realize that you were definitely conned into this, right? She's been looking for an excuse to get me back to this place for ages."

"I don't believe you," Rachel responded with wide eyes. She was most likely having trouble envisioning Quinn and Santana having an interest in anything besides popularity. "Brittany is a little easier to comprehend, but Santana? She once ordered a slushy attack against a boy just because he was wearing a Star Trek shirt."

"Yeah, with a Han Solo quote on the back," Quinn murmured.

"What?"

"Never mind." Quinn sighed rather than answering the question. "Rachel, your vest is on backwards."

"It is not. The instructor clearly stated that the blue lights sit on your right side, and the green lights sit on your left—"

Quinn tuned her out as she began to gently tug Rachel out of the tangled mess she made of her straps. She was lifting her arms and pulling apart her fasteners when she heard Santana huff beside her, "It looks like you're dressing a toddler."

Quinn ignored the small gasp when she yanked the vest a little too forcefully off Rachel's shoulders and heaved it back on, facing the correct direction. "I wouldn't be doing this if you didn't insist on acting like one, Santana."

"Oh! It feels much better now," Rachel hummed. "Quinn, can you…" She lifted up her arms and pointed towards the hanging straps. "It still feels loose."

When Quinn knelt down to accommodate, Santana let out snort. "You're stupidly whipped."

"Whatever," was all that Quinn could hiss back. Her eyes were focused on the low dip of Rachel's shirt neckline, and it might have taken more tries than necessary to get the front straps fastened and pulled snug for prime mobility. "Go make yourself useful and register us for target practice."

Santana let out a low groan. "Are you kidding? Target practice is for, like, eight-year-olds. Let's get straight to the tournament."

"This entire game is for eight-year-olds, you—"

"Target practice seems like a _great_ idea," Brittany interfered. Quinn watched in fascination as Santana's defensive stance immediately deflated at the sound of Brittany's voice. "This is Rachel's first time, right?"

"Yeah, but—"

"It would be totally unfair, otherwise. We're here, like, all the time. And San is still mad that Quinn beat her high score."

Santana's face went red. She grabbed Brittany's wrist and stomped over to the bored-looking teenager behind the registration desk before Quinn could even think of a retort.

Quinn looked toward Rachel with a raised eyebrow after a moment of silence. Rachel peered back with puffed cheeks.

"You know you were definitely manipulated into this, right?"

" _Totally_ manipulated."

***

The target practice room was black-lit, freezing cold, and flooded with glowing pictures of space paraphernalia. It was just as obnoxious as Quinn remembered it to be.

"This is shitty," Santana muttered under her breath as she aimed her gun toward the nearest wall. She frowned when she didn't see a familiar red beam of light against its surface. "The automatic aiming system is offline. We're literally in child safety mode."

Quinn ignored her. Instead, she focused her gaze on Rachel, who was clutching her gun to her chest and peering around the room with wide eyes. Quinn stepped closer and angled her head to Rachel's ear. "Hey."

Rachel looked up with a bright smile, and Quinn felt warmth spread through her chest at the sight. "Hey."

"I don't think I've told you, I like your hair this way." Quinn stepped even closer as she threaded her fingers through the end of Rachel's ponytail, allowing her knuckles to brush against the bare shoulder. Rachel shivered, and Quinn didn't bother to hide her grin. "This is one of the few times I've seen it up like this."

Rachel's gaze shifted to the floor, but her smile didn't waver. "Thank you. Usually, if I know I'm going to be active…well, it's the most practical thing to do." Rachel shifted her body until they were face to face. "I like your hair this way, too." She stood on her toes to brush the pink fly-aways that didn't quite make it into Quinn's hair tie.

Quinn couldn't help the shiver when she felt Rachel's breath puff against her cheeks.

This was going to take some getting used to.

"Are you ready?" Quinn murmured after several moments of staring at one another. She held up her gun for emphasis. Rachel blinked down at her own gun, hanging limply in one hand.

"How hard can it be? Point and shoot," Rachel winked. "Right?"

Quinn chuckled. "Do you have any idea who we're playing against?" She shifted her gun to a single hand, reaching with the other to ghost along Rachel's jaw. She applied some gentle pressure, guiding Rachel's vision towards Brittany and Santana. "You have three of the most competitive people in Ohio here—counting myself. And it's going to take a little more strategy than 'point and shoot' to take them down."

She stepped back in order to adjust for a proper shooting stance. "But first, I'm going to teach you the basics."

Rachel giggled and then cleared her throat. "Because this is a serious matter."

Quinn rolled her eyes with a small smile. "This was your idea."

"I think Space Cadet Ryan explained things quite clearly," Rachel hummed, referencing the crash course given to them by an acne-ridden employee in the briefing room.

"He literally explained nothing. He just stared at Santana's chest and mumbled under his breath."

"Can you blame him?" Rachel shrugged.

"Anyway," Quinn felt her hands clench around her gun. "First things first: Your stance." She motioned towards herself as an example.

"Like this?"

"No, bring one foot forward and then—"

"Like this."

"Too wide. You'll lose your balance."

"Okay…"

"Now crouch a bit."

"Quinn, this feels weird."

"Too low."

"Higher?"

"No, like this."

"But that's what I'm—"

"Freeze. Don't move." When Rachel complied, Quinn circled around until she was standing directly behind her. "I'm going to turn you around to face where the targets will appear, okay?" Rachel nodded, and Quinn slid her hands around Rachel's waist. She gently shifted their position, using the opportunity to press her front fully against Rachel's back.

Quinn couldn't help but think they still weren't pressed as close as she wanted, thanks to the damn vests. "Okay," She balanced her chin on the part of Rachel's shoulder not adorned with hardened plastic so she could speak into Rachel's ear. "This will be your typical shooting stance."

"Right."

"Now, hold up your gun."

"Okay…"

"No, use both hands. Perfect." Quinn trailed her hands up Rachel's torso and shoulders, reaching forward to help her grip the weapon. She smirked when she heard Rachel's breath hitch. "It won't fire at all if it doesn't sense one hand on the trigger and one under the barrel. So, don't try anything too fancy."

Quinn felt Rachel press herself further against her. "I won't," Rachel breathed. "Santana said something about an aiming system?"

Quinn hummed in agreement. "In the tournament, the aiming system is activated by squeezing the trigger halfway. A red laser beam shows where you're aiming and snaps to the closest indicator lights on an enemy's vest." She finished and poked at the lights on Rachel's shoulders, then backed away just enough to poke at the lights on her own vest. "Santana is just bitching because they turn it off during training."

"So, during training…"

"It stays on, to help with shooting practice. But not during the tournament."

"Yes, because the bright, flashing lights on our vests won't already be giving away our locations."

"Right," Quinn laughed.

"And how will I know that I'm hit?"

"Oh, you'll feel it."

Rachel whipped around to face her with wide eyes. "What?"

"Just a vibration." Quinn giggled at the expression on her face. "The same happens to your gun when you hit a target—plus, it makes a sound."

"This game might have a little too much stimulation."

The lights flashed on and off in the room, indicating the start of the training session.

"It's about time," Santana said. "Unless, of course, you're not done feeling Rachel up."

"Yeah, we can wait," Brittany added with a wink.

"Funny," Quinn muttered, as she aligned herself with the yellow tape on the floor, parallel to the target wall. Brittany, Santana, and Rachel, followed next to her. "Are you ready?"

"I'm always ready," Rachel replied.

"Ten bucks says I beat your target score, Britt." Santana rolled her shoulders as she shifted her feet. "Consider this a warm up to your ass-kicking in the tournament."

Brittany scoffed. "Add chili cheese fries to that and you've got a deal."

When the ambient music transformed into an aggressive bassline, the four girls readied their guns. Cardboard cutouts of various alien creatures began to rise from the ground in puffs of smoke.

Rachel decided to join in on the betting game. "Ten bucks says Brittany gets the chili cheese fries anyway."

Quinn smirked towards Rachel as their aiming beams flickered on. "Ten bucks says that Santana is still about to lose ten bucks."

"Ten bucks says you shut the fuck up, Quinn," Santana growled.

Quinn's laugh was drowned out by the sound of laser gunfire.

***

Brittany bested Quinn and Santana by nine points, as predicted.

Rachel lost by twenty-three.

"You didn't do _that_ badly." Quinn attempted to brighten Rachel's mood as they filed into the waiting room of the tournament arena. "It's your first time. You're up against self-proclaimed professionals."

"She's right, you know," Brittany offered. "The first time we came here, Santana was beat by a fourth grader."

"That little nerd was a fucking cheater, and you know it." Santana ignored the gasp of a nearby mother who promptly covered their child's ears. "He figured out some hack that tripled his score. Smartass."

"It's why we decided to come here every other week until you beat that score. Which Quinn ended up doing first, anyway."

" _Britt_."

Quinn leaned towards Rachel with a smirk. "You know she forced the Cheerios to come here, right? 'Bonding Activities.'" Rachel giggled into her hand until she saw Santana glaring daggers in her direction. "But she's been pissed since I quit. It eats her up that she hasn't bested me yet."

"But Brittany—"

"Isn't competition," Quinn finished with a wink.

A worker settled herself on a platform in front of the crowd and introduced herself as Space Cadet Kelly.

"Oh, this one's your favorite, San," Quinn heard Brittany whisper. Santana's response was a sharp look to the nearest wall.

Quinn scooted herself close to Rachel in order to speak into her ear once more. "Just to sum things up," — she jutted her chin the direction of the ever enthusiastic Space Cadet Kelly — "Remember what I told you about the aiming system."

Rachel nodded, looking determined.

"Expect fire from all directions," Quinn whispered. "This is a twenty minute free-for-all. And that handy LED panel on your gun will let you know exactly who hit you."

"Got it."

"There's a three second delay from when you're hit and the time you can be hit again. Keep it moving. You can't be hit if you're not standing still. Well, that's what I'm supposed to tell you."

When Rachel glanced at her in surprise, Quinn rushed to explain. "The minute those doors open to the arena, I'm going to show you how I've been beating Santana's high score."

A loud countdown began.

"Stick close to me, okay?"

**_"10...9…8…"_ **

Everyone began lining up to their preferred entryway into the arena.

"You're going down, Fabray," Santana scowled.

Quinn smirked. "Isn't that what you said last time?"

"Five more seconds!" Brittany bounced on toes.

**_"4...3…2…"_ **

Space Cadet Kelly gave a salute, and the arena doors opened with a hiss.

Quinn grabbed Rachel's hand and tugged her inside, giving her just a few moments to take in the dark, black-lit, two-story arena filled with angled corners, open sights, and multiple ramps leading to makeshift bases and hidden pathways.

Quinn preferred to shoot from a bird's eye view, especially because there was far too much commotion on the ground floor. "This way." She was certain that Rachel didn't hear her over the pounding music and gunfire, but the grip on her hand was firm. Quinn jogged toward the back of the arena and onto a ramp partially hidden by a mirrored wall.

"Why are there so many mirrors?" Rachel questioned as loud as she could over the sounds of battle.

Quinn ignored her momentarily, opting to instead turn corner after corner until they reached a relatively secluded cubicle with an open view. Quinn pressed Rachel against the far side of the wall.

"Duck," she instructed, and watched Rachel carefully sink to her knees while she remained standing. Quinn turned to aim her gun out of the open view, then fired six rapid shots towards unsuspecting players. She smirked when her gun vibrated with a pleasant beep at each shot, indicating that she hit all of her targets. She twisted her body out of view and crouched to join Rachel on the floor.

"Quinn, what—"

"You asked about the mirrors." Quinn's chest moved rapidly with adrenaline. "It's meant to startle other players and make the room seem bigger than it really is. Seasoned players use it to their advantage."

"You're _really_ good at this."

"Not really," Quinn shrugged. "I'm just good at not getting hit."

"By hiding."

"Exactly."

Quinn gasped when she felt her vest vibrate and power down unexpectedly for the mandatory three seconds. She glanced at the LED screen on her gun, then whirled around to face Rachel. "Seriously?"

Rachel had the gun pointed in her direction with a smirk. "I needed to get at least one shot in."

Quinn shot her back immediately after the tell-tale activation siren sounded from her gun. "Don't shoot me again," Quinn warned.

Rachel grimaced at the vibration. "This just feels odd."

Quinn stood, then helped Rachel stand as well. They turned to face the open view. "Shall we start collecting points?" She pressed herself against Rachel's back and settled her hands on Rachel's hips. "Like target practice."

"I'm thinking this is your favorite position."

Rachel shifted her body more than was probably necessary, but Quinn hummed and tightened her fingers, regardless. "Start shooting."

Quinn watched as Rachel raised her gun to chest level, and the sounds of laser gunfire filled their secluded space. Rachel's hit ratio was not the best, but it was obvious she had a grasp on the basics. When red aiming beams began to point in their direction, Quinn decided it was time for a position change.

Before Quinn could back them out of the open view, rapid footsteps sounded along the ramp. They were about to be compromised. Quinn saw a red laser beam peek around the corner and immediately guarded Rachel against the wall before she had the chance to question it. Quinn's eyes narrowed at the offender when her vest vibrated, then powered down.

The boy that shot her stood frozen in place, not realizing he was wasting the precious few seconds he had to get away before Quinn returned fire.

When the vest lights powered back on, Quinn was sure the look on her face wasn't pleasant. She watched as the boy began to back away step by step before turning to run as quickly as possible.

Quinn was ready to give chase until she felt a tug at her vest. "I'll be right back," she answered before Rachel could ask the question. "Stay low."

"But—"

"Don't move. I'll scope the area on the other side." Her blood was pumping and she felt her hand twitch over the trigger. "I'll be back before you know it."

Quinn began to silently make her way through the maze she had come to memorize. She listened for the heavy footsteps of the boy not too far from her position. Smirking, Quinn slunk along the walls and carefully avoided stray aiming beams from other players.

A flash of blue and green lights caught the corner of her eye.

"Got you." She raised her gun the direction of a well-placed mirror, reflecting the heaving back of the boy who'd dared to open fire on her. Quinn pulled the trigger and had to stifle her laugh when the boy gasped at the sudden shock of vibration.

Novice.

She disappeared before the boy could figure out where the shot had come from.

Quinn traced her steps back up the ramp and made her way to the left side of the base, only pausing to peek around corners and fire at unsuspecting players on the ground floor (including Santana, who cursed loudly when she realized she had been hit). The area was all clear.

She followed her previous path to the right side, where Rachel—who was now pacing throughout the cubicle—was told to wait. Her hands were clenched tightly around her gun as she gnawed at her lower lip, occasionally peering out to keep watch for any incoming fire. When it was safe, Rachel raised her gun and fired several shots before ducking out of view, just as Quinn had when they first arrived. Quinn felt her shoulders relax and her trigger finger ease when she realized that Rachel, while not following her instructions, was doing a decent job of holding her own.

Quinn was standing behind Rachel before she even realized she had moved at all.

"Not bad, Rach—"

Rachel flinched and jumped backwards at the unexpected sound, slamming the butt of her gun against Quinn's chin.

And it connected _hard_. Quinn swore she could see stars.

"Oh my God, I'm so—"

Rachel whipped around to check on her victim, but the barrel of her gun hit Quinn's cheek with such force that Quinn's vision temporarily went dark as she fell to the ground. Her eyes watered without her permission.

"Quinn! Oh God, are you okay? I'm so, so—"

"Jesus, Rachel, what the hell!" Quinn palmed the side of her face throbbing in pain. She was sure she could taste blood in her mouth.

"How do I stop the game? What was the word? Oh, God."

"I'm fine!" She wasn't. "I just need to get to an exit."

"Help! Stop the game!" Rachel was beginning to yell now. Quinn sensed an impending headache. "We have an injury!"

Suddenly, the music halted in the room and bright white lights flickered on from ceiling. A collective mix of groans and confused murmurs echoed throughout the arena.

"Seriously?" Quinn sighed at the sound of security radios and heavy footsteps. She stood up, though she hated to admit that it took much longer than normal to gain back her balance. "So unnecessary."

"I was only trying to help!"

"It would help if you didn't swing your gun around like a baseball bat!"

"Quinn, it really was an accident. You startled me, and I—"

Quinn held up her hand to silence Rachel. Her patience was wearing thin as the pain in her cheek continued to increase. Her voice became eerily calm. "I need to get out." She shook her head when Rachel attempted to protest. "And I need some ice." On that final note, she shoved her way through the burly Laser Wars security staff just as they rounded the corner, not bothering to turn around when they towered over Rachel (to question her, most likely).

Quinn's guilt would eventually pass.

***

"There you are."

Quinn refused to acknowledge the muffled voice coming from outside of Santana's car. Her chin was throbbing and her cheek had most likely doubled in size, despite the cheap icepack pressed firmly against it.

"Open the door, Quinn."

Rachel's tone left no room for argument, and Quinn had the feeling that if she looked up, she would see Rachel's fists pressed against her hips in annoyance. Still looking angrily at her lap, Quinn shifted over to manually unlock the door. She still wouldn't look at Rachel, even when she settled in next to Quinn in the back seat and slammed the car door shut.

But Rachel didn't say anything at all. Quinn glanced up before she could help herself.

"Are we sulking in the car, now?" Rachel's eyes were narrowed and her tone was low. Quinn shifted in her seat. "You stormed away from me before you even gave me the chance to apologize."

"Yeah, well, it is your fault."

"My fault." Rachel's voice was uncharacteristically dead-panned.

"All I really wanted was a simple date. _Alone_."

"Quinn—"

"But then your ridiculous need to prove yourself got us manipulated into this stupid game—"

"Can you just—"

"And now, I'm pretty sure I've lost a tooth because of it."

Rachel paused and furrowed her eyebrows. Then, her eyes widened, as if something had just dawned on her. "You're being dramatic," she whispered in awe.

"I'm in pain."

"You're being a baby."

"Try getting your face slammed by a giant, plastic gun."

Rachel motioned to her own nose with raised eyebrows. "Seriously?"

Quinn deflated in her seat and rested the back of her head against the leather. "Whatever."

A long moment of silence passed before Rachel huffed loudly.

Quinn jerked upwards. "What is it?"

Rachel responded with another sigh and shifted her body against the leather seats to get as close to Quinn as possible. She adjusted her legs until they draped comfortably across Quinn's lap and settled a hand against the uninjured cheek, forcing Quinn to look in her direction. They stared at each other for a moment as Quinn allowed the icepack to fall, forgotten.

"You're mad; I get it. But I don't want to argue with you."

Quinn felt more than heard Rachel whisper. Her hand fell against Rachel's thigh, just beneath the bottom of her shorts.

"This was not how I imagined our date would end," Rachel added.

Quinn nodded wordlessly, then let out a small gasp at the feeling of Rachel's lips pressed against her swollen cheek. Her grip tightened against Rachel's thigh. The kiss was long and deliberate, and Quinn immediately missed the warmth when Rachel pulled back to speak again. The pain was forgotten as well.

"I'm sorry for injuring you, Quinn."

"It's—" Quinn swallowed. The fog in her brain was making it difficult to speak. She began to absently stroke her thumb against Rachel's skin. "It's fine, things happen. I'm not mad, really."

"I know you wanted dinner and a movie, but..." Rachel placed another slow kiss against Quinn's cheek. "I think you enjoyed this more than you care to admit."

Quinn was certainly enjoying herself right now. She wrapped her hand around Rachel's waist and pulled her even closer.

"Don't think I didn't notice how excited you were during the tournament—Santana and Brittany, too. I learned quite a bit about you three today."

"Oh really?" Quinn could hardly focus, as her attention was spent nosing along Rachel's jaw line.

Rachel hummed distractedly. "We can always discuss the Unholy Trinity's secret love for science fiction on a different occasion."

"Right."

"But for now, I have a proposal."

"It's kind of early in the relationship, don't you think?" Quinn grinned and nipped playfully at Rachel's chin.

Rachel rolled her eyes. "I was going to recommend we go to my house—"

"I guess it's never too early for that."

"—for _dinner and a movie_. God, Quinn." Rachel backed away enough the flick lightly at Quinn's swollen cheek.

The pain was no longer forgotten.

"Quinn, you're—" Rachel peered at her for a moment before smiling softly. She wrapped her arms around Quinn's shoulders and tugged until their lips met.

The kiss, in itself, was innocent and just as long and deliberate as Rachel's kiss to her cheek. But the way Quinn's stomach seemed to flip at the contact, how her heart felt like it was going to beat out of her chest, how her breath seized in her lungs—

Quinn would gladly take a laser gun to the cheek everyday if this was the result.

"Hey!"

The loud voice and sudden banging against the window sent Rachel and Quinn scrambling apart. They both jerked their heads toward the source of the noise, then let out annoyed sighs.

Quinn slid away from Rachel and threw open the door without any concern that she might hit Santana in the process.

"You're fogging up my windows!"

"Your point?"

"All better now, Princess? Are we going to do a rematch or what?"

Quinn huffed and slammed the door shut again, locking it again, despite Santana's muffled protests. She shuffled toward Rachel until she was close enough to place a chaste kiss against her lips. "Ready to ditch Laser Wars?"

"Beyond ready." Rachel bit her lip and intertwined her fingers with Quinn's. "But I'm pretty sure we should get you to Urgent Care first."


End file.
